


Centennial Man

by zilia



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes' 100th birthday, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Medical Kink, Memories, Nipple Play, Reminiscing, Smut, fantasies, look I just love Steve's tits ok, size play, so does bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-11
Updated: 2017-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-02 10:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10216481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zilia/pseuds/zilia
Summary: Steve gives Bucky an unusual birthday present.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This started life as part of a larger fic, but I couldn't get it to work, and I decided to publish this bit to celebrate Bucky's birthday today.

“So, um, I got you a present.”

 

Bucky looked up from his tablet, where he’d been scrolling through several obnoxious birthday messages from Stark, grateful that he was in a cabin a million miles away from the rest of the Avengers. Maybe he should have been making more of a fuss of the day – it wasn't every day you turned 100, after all – but the only thing he'd wanted for his birthday was to be left in peace. Maybe with a side-order of Steve, to follow on from the excellent birthday blowjob he’d given him before disappearing off for a run. He couldn’t think of anything Steve could give him that he could want more than either of those.

 

“Really? Earlier, that wasn’t my gift?”

 

Steve looked unaccountably nervous, his gaze jumping around the room, his hands in his pockets.

 

“Well, yes, it was, but I thought…I thought you might like…”

 

What _was_ it that had Steve so worked up? Bucky hadn’t seen him like this in years.

 

“Come on baby, out with it,” he said, starting to feel concerned. “Is everything ok?”

 

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, I’m fine.”

 

There was a pause, during which Steve looked like he was gathering his nerve; then he stepped quickly over to Bucky and wordlessly presented him with small, blue, plastic, jar with a green screw-top lid.

 

Bucky stared at it, nonplussed.

 

“What’s this?”

 

“Open it,” Steve squeaked, and then blushed incandescently and shuffled a few paces away.

 

Bucky did, and once the lid was off the jar, he could make out a familiar scent, instantly recognisable, which went immediately, and inappropriately, to his dick.

 

“They still make this stuff?” he asked, incredulous. “They haven’t come up with anything better?”

 

“Yep,” Steve said, in a would-be casual voice which sounded about 1% casual. His ears were a fluorescent pink. “Found it in the drugstore. Couldn’t believe it.”

 

There was clearly more he wanted to say, so Bucky waited for him to pluck up the courage to say it.

 

“I think…Bucky, I think I…” Steve took a deep breath and babbled “I’ve been feeling really bad, would you rub some on my chest?”

 

Bucky gaped at Steve for a moment. It felt like his brain was resetting. Steve didn’t get sick any more. Steve _couldn’t_ get sick. And then he took in the way Steve was standing, stooping his shoulders slightly, looking up at Bucky through lowered, submissive eyelashes. Gorgeous. His heart started to beat faster and his breath caught in his throat as he realised the game Steve wanted to play. _Oh Steve_ , he thought. _You crazy brilliant perverted little punk. I love you._

 

“Sure, Stevie,” he said, keeping his voice calm even though his heart was attempting to leap out of his ribcage. “Why, are you feeling sick?”

 

Steve gave an entirely unconvincing cough.

 

“Yeah, I…I am. Would you?”

 

“Anything for my best guy,” Bucky croaked, through a suddenly dry mouth. Jesus. Why was this turning him on so much? “Where do you wanna…?”

 

“Bedroom,” Steve interrupted him. They couldn’t seem to meet each other’s eyes, despite the fact that they’d done this very thing more times than Bucky could remember back in the thirties and forties; seen each other naked before countless times; touched and kissed and loved on each other on every available surface in every apartment they’d ever shared. Somehow, the game made it feel different.

 

Bucky followed him into their bedroom, and started to say “OK, so you should maybe…” before Steve cut him off by eagerly yanking his t-shirt over his head.

 

“…take off your shirt,” Bucky finished, as the shirt landed in a pile in the corner. “OK. Good. Yeah. Um, lie down, maybe?” Shit, his hands were trembling. What the fuck? Steve had sucked his dick in this bed not two hours earlier. The sheets still held traces of warmth from their bodies from the night before.

 

Steve climbed onto the bed with more enthusiasm and speed than a sick person should have been able to manage and arranged himself on the pillows. Bucky wanted to laugh at the expression on his face; he was trying so hard to look non-committal, but he was practically arching off the bed to get himself a few inches closer to Bucky’s touch, trying not to wriggle impatiently as Bucky approached the bed.

 

“I guess I should, um, straddle you? Do you mind?” Bucky said as he sat down, and Steve made a face. Bucky remembered belatedly that Steve would never have been able to cope with that before the serum, so he hastily corrected himself. “Um, I meant, I’ll just sit next to you. Wouldn’t want to put any pressure on your poor hips.”

 

If he’d said that, or even _thought_ that, near Steve when he had really been tiny, Steve would have bitten his head off and spat it back at him. He wished there was some way he could visit his past self and tell him that one day he was going to be able to lavish all the care and love on Steve he wanted. He’d probably gloss over exactly _how_ that would become possible – if there was one thing he’d learned from science fiction novels, it was that trying to change time was always a bad idea – but it would probably have cheered him up as a young man to know that his wildest, most forbidden fantasies of actually being able to take care of the stubborn bastard without being made to feel like he was committing some act of terrible depravity would someday come true. Steve had been happier to let Bucky dress him up in stockings and lacy panties and spank him than he’d been to let him wrap him up in blankets and bring him a cup of tea. But then that was just Steve. He’d always been kind of odd.

 

“Thanks,” Steve said, with another horribly unconvincing cough. It was almost like his aggressively healthy body had forgotten how to do something as defective as cough these days. It was on the tip of Bucky’s tongue to say _Jesus, Rogers, why’d they let you anywhere near a stage?_ but he didn’t, because he was being nice, and he could tease Steve on any other day.

 

Instead, he scooped some of the ointment out of the jar with his flesh fingers and let it melt for a moment from the heat of his hand. Then he lowered his hand to Steve’s chest and began to rub it all over his skin.

 

Bucky had never made a secret of his love for Steve’s chest. The breadth of his shoulders tapering down to his tiny waist; his delicate collarbones; his smooth skin. But his absolute favourite part was his lush pectoral muscles, which, much to Steve’s chagrin, he insisted on calling tits. The tender buds were an anomaly on Steve’s otherwise chiselled frame, a supple softness begging to be touched, subtly swelling and visible through his tight t-shirts. His sweet pink nipples were gorgeously sensitive, hardening easily to rosy peaks whenever Steve was aroused and causing him to make beautiful sounds whenever Bucky sucked or pinched at them. They were full enough for Bucky to grasp and squeeze in generous handfuls, and when Steve bent or lay down, they would press together to form a gentle cleavage where he could bury his face, or his cock, or just feast his eyes on the glorious sight. Bucky was always aware of Steve’s chest, but seeing it laid out in front of him begging to be the recipient of his undivided and devoted attention made his heart beat faster.

 

He started in the centre, feeling the strong breastbone and the jump of Steve’s fluttering heart beneath his fingers. The ointment melted almost immediately from the combined warmth of Bucky’s hand and Steve’s body, turning liquid, the aroma of it rising. They both took a deep breath in, and then they both laughed, which broke the tension a little.

 

“That smells good, huh?” Bucky said unnecessarily, but he felt he had to start somewhere if he was going to run his mouth, needed to break through the sudden rust in his throat so that he could get going again. “Gonna be real good for your chest, babe, clear it right out.”

 

“Mmmhmm,” Steve hummed.

 

“Take some deep breaths, sweetheart,” Bucky encouraged him, and Steve did, his ribcage expanding beautifully under Bucky’s palms. “That’s it, darlin’. Good boy.” Steve made a tiny whimpering sound at the praise, and pushed his chest up a little further, pressing back against Bucky’s light strokes. Bucky bit his lip. So far, he had stayed away from Steve’s nipples, but Steve’s reactions were making him want to tease them. He scooped a little more of the ointment onto his fingertips and spread it carefully the hardened tip of Steve’s right pec. Steve whimpered again at the sensation.

 

“Tingles,” he whined, and Bucky nodded.

 

“It’s the menthol, babydoll. It’s meant to feel like that. Means it’s working.” He continued to stroke gently, working the salve into the sensitive skin, watching it swell and redden before his eyes and listening to the beautiful, broken noises it coaxed out of Steve.

 

“Look so beautiful, Stevie,” he said, his voice hoarse.

 

“More, Bucky, _please,_ more,” Steve moaned.

 

“You sure, baby? I only want to help you feel better. Don’t wanna give you too much.”

 

“I can take it. _Please_.”

 

“Okay, darlin’. Can’t say no to my baby boy.”

 

Bucky smoothed the thick ointment over Steve’s left nipple, and it reacted just as the right one had. Steve hissed, arching his back involuntarily. Bucky rolled the muscle between thumb and forefinger, drawing the bud to an aching point, before he remembered that he was supposed to be being gentle. Steve seemed to have forgotten, though; he was squirming and begging Bucky to touch him, to fuck him.

 

“Baby, we can’t do that,” Bucky said, bending to kiss the tip of Steve’s nose.

 

“ _Why?_ ” Steve gasped,

 

“You know why,” Bucky said, pulling back. “Can’t get you too worked up, it’s not good for your chest.”

 

Steve deflated, belatedly recalling what he had started.

 

“But I _want_ you to,” he said, and for a moment the mulish expression on his face was entirely reminiscent of his younger, smaller self. Bucky’s heart ached with the memory of it.

 

“I know, sweet thing,” he said. “And I want to, too. But you’re so small, I might hurt you.” He bent so that his mouth was right next to Steve’s ear, unable to help himself despite the rules that he had set for them both. “I want to fuck you, little darlin’, bend you in half and work this stuff into your ass, make you burn with it, and then sink into you so deep and so fast and just _fuck you_ ‘til you scream, but I can’t, and I won’t, because you’re too precious to me.”

 

He shouldn’t have said that. Quite aside from the fact that it was against everything they’d been pretending, it recalled something that had been a point of contention between them in the past. Steve had constantly goaded and prodded and needled at Bucky in an attempt to get him to use the salve inside him, but Bucky had steadfastly refused, despite his usual complete inability to deny Steve anything. Maybe the super-soldier serum would make it less of a bad idea, but he was still reluctant to do anything that might hurt Steve, even if he professed to like it, even if Steve was the kind of person for whom parachutes when jumping out of a plane were an optional extra rather than an absolute necessity.

 

Steve was very still, and Bucky waited for a few agonising seconds to see whether he’d completely shattered the illusion and ruined the game for him. Finally, Steve took a deep breath in and out, and gave Bucky a smile that somehow managed to be blinding and tremulous at the same time.

 

“You take such good care of me,” he said softly, and Bucky’s knees felt a little weak with affection and relief, despite the fact that he was sitting. He lifted a hand to stroke through Steve’s hair, not caring that the salve that still clung to his fingers would make it greasy. Steve, who also appeared totally unconcerned about this now that they were living in an era where hot water was much easier to come by, pushed his head up into Bucky’s hand, encouraging the caress.

 

“Do you need some more, sweetheart?” Bucky asked him, as he petted Steve’s hair. Steve was making a sound that was not unlike purring, his eyes half-closed. The scent of menthol and eucalyptus permeated the room, and Bucky felt almost dizzy with it; his head and the fingers of his flesh hand buzzed with the combination of physical sensation and the knowledge that he was bringing Steve pleasure.

 

“No, I think I’m ok now,” Steve said, sounding warm and drowsy and very, very relaxed. He held his arms up in a clear demand for contact, and Bucky was only too happy to oblige, lying down next to Steve and pulling him to rest his head on Bucky’s chest. By this stage, they were both covered in salve, and they were going to need showers, and the sheets were going to be a nightmare to get clean, but Bucky really couldn’t bring himself to care.

 

“How long have you been planning this?” he asked, after they’d dozed for a few minutes in a happy, tingling tangle.

 

“A few weeks,” Steve said. “I found it in a pharmacy and bought it, made me feel so fucking good just smelling it and remembering. I kept taking the lid off and breathing it in. But I wasn’t sure how to ask you if you wanted to, you know, try it out.”

 

“So you thought you’d just give it a field test?”

 

Steve laughed. “Something like that. You know plans ain’t exactly my strong point. And then it was your birthday, and I know you didn’t want any presents, but it’s not every day a fella’s best guy turns a hundred. I wanted to give you something special.”

 

“So you gave me you,” Bucky said. “The only thing I ever wanted, anyway.”

 

Steve gave a pleased, embarrassed little shiver, and Bucky squeezed him a little closer.

 

“You know, they make stuff nowadays that feels like this.”

 

“What?”

 

Steve was blushing to the roots of his hair; Bucky could feel the heat of his face on his chest. “You know. Stuff. Like, for sex.”

 

“You mean lube?”

 

Steve coughed. “Yes.”

 

“You know you can say it, right? Nobody’s gonna hear you except me, we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Bucky kissed the top of his head. “You want to get some, try it out sometime? Because there’s no way I’m putting Vick’s up your ass.”

 

“Yes.” Steve gave a happy sigh. “Thanks, Buck. That would be awesome.”

 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Bucky said. “Maybe I’ll get you some for your birthday.”

 


End file.
